The days of my youth.
[John Mitchell.—Here first printed.]
Ah! where are the days of my earliest youth,
When nature was sunshine, enjoyment, and truth?
When the journey of life seem'd a pathway of flowers.
And hope wreath'd with roses my days and my hours,
Ah! where are the days of my youth?
Then friendship stood forth unsuspicious and free
As the wind when it sweeps o'er the fathomless sea,
From whose smile rose the joys that were sure to impart
A gush of unmingled delight o'er the heart.
Ah! where are the days of my youth?
Then love lent her charms to enliven the grove,
And breath'd the delights that exist but in love;
The flowers that I turn'd in my chaplet were fair,
For time had not then stain'd my forehead with care,
Ah! where are the days of my youth?
Ah! youth in the vortex of passion's wild flow,
Reflect on the years that come laden with woe,
And 'mid thy gay transports keep this in thine eye,
The years are at hand when thou'lt sing with a sigh,
Ah! where are the days of my youth?